


"My Baz"

by dark_as_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Slow Burn, bear with me, idk what this is, or as much Slow Burn as is possible in an almost 2k fic, takes place at Watford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:34:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_as_pitch/pseuds/dark_as_pitch
Summary: Baz teases Simon. Simon loses his chill.or Simon should really think before he speaks





	"My Baz"

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to the wonderful Rainbow Rowell.

Honestly it was a complete accident. Penny was annoyed at me for going on and on and _on_ (her words not mine) about Baz, and therefore decided to be annoying back.

Here I was trying to tell her about a very real _danger_ to us all, whereas she was alternating between ignoring me or being purposefully obtuse (which seeing as it was Penelope was perfectly ridiculous).

“- but he was wandering around at the dead of _night_ in the _catacombs_ like an absolute _weirdo_ –“

“Don’t call people ‘weirdos’, Simon, it’s not polite.”

“He’s a _vampire_ , Pen! This is about survival, not tea with the Queen!”

“Mhmm,” Penny kept her nose buried in the heavy tome she picked up an hour ago and was already halfway through, “and why exactly is the Queen of England a weirdo?”

“I- what, no, Penny- That’s not what I-“ I growled even though I knew she was just trying to wind me up, “Forget the bloody Queen! We’re talking about the bloody vampire!” Penny snorted.

“...Who’s a vampire, again?”  I was really gonna lose it.

“Baz!”

“Hm? Buzz?” She still looked to be only half listening, but I could see the strain at the sides of her mouth.

“No! For Merlin’s sake, Penny. My roommate! Baz! My Baz!”

I knew I was fucked the moment the words slipped out.

Penny looked like Christmas came early and her parents had gifted her the British Library. The twinkle in her eyes was downright indecent and I knew there was no escape. I was not getting out of this unscathed and I was never living it down.

“Oh, Simon...” She almost sounded choked up, as if she couldn’t believe I had presented her with such a blessing.

“Please, don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.”

“Penny. Mercy.” I was begging, but my death warrant had been signed.

Her grin was evil through and through. “MY BAZ. _MY_ BAZ” Her cackling echoed around the library. “Oh, I’m sorry, Simon. How could I possible forget about _YOUR_ BAZ? Goodness gracious me! Yes, of course, we must all discuss _your_ Baz. Nice ole chap that Baz of yours-“

I couldn’t do much more than stare in abject horror with my jaw unhinged. Every drop of blood in my body had rushed to my head, setting my cheeks and ears on fire. And, in the unlikely possibility that there was a single person in the room whose eyes had not yet been drawn to Penny’s embarrassing guffawing, I was pretty sure my magic leaking everywhere would do the trick.

“- you’re right, _your_ Baz _is_ quite the looker- ” I was going to kill her. “- tall, fluffy hair- “

“Jesus Christ, Penny, enough!” My swearing like a Normal seemed to redirect her one-track-mind a bit, as she settled into a snicker but had finally ( _blessedly_ ) stopped talking nonsense.

I supposed I deserved a bit of punishment for exceeding my limit of Baz-talk for the day (if the sharp look in her eye was any indication), so even though I felt horrifically embarrassed in that moment I figured it couldn’t really get any worse. Everyone would have a good laugh and then obviously recognising this as friendly teasing would dismiss it and move on.

Except, of course, it could. Get worse, that is. A lot worse.

And it did.

Because Tyrannus Basilton ‘My-Fucking-Baz’ Grimm Pitch was right there alongside everyone else. Although he wasn’t laughing. He stood, looking frozen mid motion with one hand holding a book and the other halfway pulling out a chair. He looked shocked and baffled more than anything, as if he was wondering if he’d accidentally slipped into a parallel universe between eating breakfast and walking to the library. His eyebrows had shot up to his hairline and (horror of horrors) there was amusement in his eyes. He looked caught between concern for his own mental state and smugness for this bizarre turn of events.

For once, his face seemed to have lifted a bit. There was no scowl in sight. Standing there at his full towering height, his muscles shocked into an unthinking relaxed state, with a bemused sort of smile on his face he looked... Well. Oddly handsome. Casual, in a way I’d never really seen before.

Of course this whole time he’d been looking at Penny still. When his gaze swung to me, I knew (once again) that I was well and truly fucked.

 

*

 

Apparently the students of Watford had very little else to do with the time on their hands other than spread the news of the library incident around the school and come up with New! and Exciting! Jokes! involving me and _my_ Baz.

It took a couple of weeks for people to generally move on, and considerably more for Penny (though she didn’t overuse it, rather kept it for when I thought I was finally safe)(evil I tell you).

Baz, however. Baz was a different story.

While I expected open and intense ridicule in public settings, that was not what I got. Not at all.

In fact, Baz barely said a word at the start. There was a certain light of amusement in his eyes, sure, but no outright comments of mockery.

He waited, _the bastard_. He waited until after the first week when I had already absolutely had enough of everyone thinking they were hilariously witty and original in regards to ‘ _my Baz_ ’.

And then he did the unthinkable.

Well, to be fair, I’m not exactly sure _what_ it was that he was doing, but, _Crowley_ , was it getting to me.

He still wasn’t outright mocking me (at least not more than usual, not about this), but rather waited for the right moment to slip a comment low enough only for me to hear and get so flustered I’d smoke up the entire room.

It started with the simple stuff.

“Snow, pass me that vial.”

“Get it yourself, this isn’t even a partnering project.”

“Come on, Snow. Won’t you do it for me? Your Baz?”

Suddenly the bloke seemed to be incapable of reaching or fetching anything for himself. It was ‘Snow pass this’ and ‘Snow get that’ all the bloody time. And, of course, after my swift refusal, the ‘not-even-for-your-Baz?’ guilt trip would start. As if that should persuade me.

Oh, how naive I was. Thinking that I knew hell.

Safe to say he moved on to more vicious tactics.

The bomb dropped a few weeks after the initial incident, when Baz seemed to decide that it was time to properly take advantage of my weakened sanity and strike to kill.

And honestly, I’m a bit of an idiot because I was the one to give him the opening.

“Fuck, Baz, open the window, it’s scorching in here,” I moaned from my bed, half convinced in my heat induced daze that he’d used a heating spell on the room’s temperature just to annoy me.

Imagine my surprise when he actually got up from his desk chair and walked over to the window, opening it.

Now imagine the strangled choking sound I made when he quietly said, “Anything for my Simon.” And then swiftly disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

 

*

 

The situation was getting out of hand.

Baz was a little _shit_. And my grasp on reality was slipping through my fingers.

He kept saying _it_. ‘My Simon’.

I didn’t know what was driving me more mad. The fact that he was still playing along with this whole ‘my’ business or that after so many years of only being called by my last name (and that’s when he was being civil) to suddenly having to endure the word ‘Simon’ roll off his aristocratic tongue. _Wait, no, don’t think about his tongue._

The most frustrating part was that none of it seemed to be for show. Nobody else could see him leading me off the edge of a very tall cliff, because nobody ever heard him.

It was always low comments and barely-there whispers and a warm exhale of ‘Simon’ on the skin right by my ear.

I was going insane. Completely insane. Because rather than telling him to “Sod off” and “Stop being weird, Baz, what the hell”, instead I just startled and blushed, and probably spat out some flustered mumbling that seemed to please him endlessly.

In my defence, it wasn’t my fault. Who could possibly react calmly and with a clear head when their tall, dark and brooding vampire of a roommate was hell bent on scrambling your mind with soft whispers and crinkly eyes.

_Simon, Simon, Simon_

I always seemed to think of myself as strong; magically and physically. Apparently the list stopped there, seeing as mentally I was slowly turning into actual pudding.

My days were suddenly filled with grey eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders, strong backs. And secret grins. Because - damn him - he was definitely enjoying it. Every time I blustered, he seemed more and more satisfied with himself.

It was a peculiar new dynamic that existed between us now. Like a cord that was being stretched thin. It was only logical it would snap eventually.

 

*

 

I was walking down the dimly lit corridor after dinner one night, needing to retrieve a botanical Anthology book I’d forgotten in the Potions classroom earlier in the day, before heading to bed.

My mind was kind of on autopilot, not really noticing my surroundings until I bumped into a tall figure rounding the corner, subsequently scattering the books they’d clearly just borrowed from the library.

“Crowley, Snow! If you wanted to feel me up, you could have gone about it in a gentler manner.”

“Shit, I’m sorry- Wait, what- I wasn’t- What- ?” I looked like a deer in the headlights, I was sure.

“Aw, Simon,” Morgana. “My Simon.” He stepped over the fallen books, ignoring them, and advanced towards me.

“Baz,” I took a step backwards with his every step forwards.

“Merlin, if only I knew years ago that the only thing I have to do to get you to blush is say your name...”

I ran out of steps, my back bumping into the stone wall behind. Baz stopped a mere few inches away.

“Baz,” It seemed this was the only word I could hope to form.

“Simon...” He came impossibly closer. His chest pressed warmly against mine, his breath fanning over my face.

It was too much. I felt like I was going to explode. Or go off. So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of.

I grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him.

He jolted slightly, not expecting this response. Maybe not having thought his approach through at all.

But after a second nothing seemed to matter much.

Baz’s arms wrapped around my waist, locking in place. My world was on fire. Every part of me was pressed up against him and his mouth was so hot on mine.

I felt like I’d been holding my breath for far too long (for weeks, for years) and this, Baz, _my Baz_ , was the first gulp of fresh air I’d been allowed.

Pulling back, panting, Baz whispered into my mouth the one word that made my knees almost buckle, “Simon.” _He was smiling at me._

Fuck the war. Fuck the Humdrum. Nobody was going to take this away from me. I simply wouldn’t survive it.

 

_My Baz. His Simon._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure about this fic, it's just an idea I had to get out of my head, so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Thank you for reading <3


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